


the way she moves

by freloux



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Approximately canon levels of romance, F/M, References to the Beatles, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freloux/pseuds/freloux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You didn't want a radio but you have a record player."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way she moves

He's busy messing with some gewgaws that, for once, look familiar to her.  
"You didn't want a radio but you have a record player."  
"This way you have more control," the Doctor returns. "Every bit as high as your fi should be."  
"Could be higher," she jokes, making a _puff_ gesture by her mouth and wiggling her eyebrows.  
He glares at her in a way that suggests now is not the time for space-weed. Then he holds up an album to show to her. "George gave this to me. I did him a favour once, so."  
Clara screws up her face. George - ? Oh. George _Harrison_. Then she shakes her head. She supposes that she should be used to the Doctor's name-dropping by now, but sometimes it still takes her by surprise.

The Doctor goes back to fiddling with the record player. Just minute adjustments, making reassuring noises to his machine (both machines) as he goes. There's a bit of a grinding noise as the TARDIS stereo system works to calibrate with the much older technology. A fizz, then a crackle of static, and finally the heaviness of "Come Together" comes oozing out. They stand there awkwardly for a moment, listening, until the music fades into the next song. The Doctor is in the middle of telling her a story about it. "You know, everyone says that it's about Pattie, but George told me that it's - "

Clara sighs, exasperated. The music is too soft, too sweet, for her to just keep listening to the Doctor and his stories.  
"Dance with me," she says, grabbing his hand. "You do dance, right?"  
He goes stiff. Resistant. "I did once. With Rose."  
Clara freezes, looks up at him. He doesn't return her gaze - he's lost in thought, busy listening to the music. Remembering. He so rarely talks about those who've gone before her that she doesn't really know how to process it when it does happen. So she decides to bluster her way through this instead. "Well, then, you should know what to do."  
"I don't - " He flaps helplessly.  
"Yes, yes, but you were against the hugging and the sex before this, and look how both of those worked out," Clara says. She smirks and pulls him into position.

And if she ends up doing most of the leading, neither of them really seem to mind. It's mostly the warmth and the closeness that matter. Her hand on his shoulder - at his elbow, really, just because he's much, much taller than her. His hand at her waist. The Beatles echoing in the TARDIS. Slow-swelling music that draws them closer together. By the time George has stopped singing, Clara realizes that they're just holding each other now. Swaying more than anything else. She leans her head against his chest. Listens to both his hearts as they match the thrumming outro of the song.

"Should we - I was - that is. Um." He swallows, loud in the silence. "I did actually go to an octopus's garden once, did I tell you that?"  
He has told her this, but she humours him anyway. "No, really?"  
(Besides, if he keeps telling her about the garden - _seaweed, Clara, taller than I am!_ \- then maybe he won't notice that he's still holding onto her.)


End file.
